Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: changes

My dream life in 2026

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I’m going to do it. I’m going to muse about what my ideal life would look like. Why? Because maybe it will make me figure out my actual realistic goals for 2026.

First off: I want a fuck buddy. Or three. I have been trying to line one up for several years, but something has always gotten in the way. I was just getting ready to go backk to the apps at the beginning of 2020. More specifically, late February of 2020. Remember what else was happening at that time? I can’t quite put my finger on it. Hm.

Just kidding. It was the pandemic. The pandemic happened. Oh, boy, did it happen. Yes, people did date during the pandemic (online) but that wasn’t for me. Even I who am so much a loner would need to meet up in person with someone within a few weeks of starting to message them. Why? Because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t go out at all.

My brother dated a ton before settling down with his current GF two years ago. I was filled with admiration because he messeged women every day. Several a day. He put in the work, which is what I’m trying to say. He went on at least one date a week, oftentimes two, and he took a break when he got burnt out.

That’s my brother in a nutshell. When he has a goal, he gives his all until he achieves it or until he changes to another goal. He does the latter often, by the way. Not a knock on him, but an acknowledgement of one of his traits.

I, on the other hand, move at a glacial pace until I actually move, and then it’s go time. I get all my ducks in a row, makes sure they’re sitting nicely, groom them and then I wait another six months. Yes,, that’s a very loose metaphor, but it works.

Ahem.

Back to my wishlist.

I want a fuck buddy or three with whom I can have a laugh and a sex. Yes, I want to do the sex and have fun doing it. i don’t want to catch emotions, which is why I’m specifying a fuck buddy or three. Race, gender, sexual orientation–none of those matter to me. Back when I did personal ads (I’m talking way back in the Craigslist days), I had a line that went like this: “I don’t care about your race, sexual orientation, or religioun–but I will not date Republicans.” I stand by that, by the way. Though I’m wary of Christians. Then again, any Christian who would at least consider going out with me would have to be on the progressive side.

Sex once a week is ideal. That’s number one.


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Change of ways in 2026 (part three)

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I need to tackle my brain issues in 2026. I have recently realized that I’m neuroatypical, though I’m not exactly sure of the particular flavor (probably autistic and maybe ADHD, too). One issue I have is that it’s really difficult for me to do something if my brain is against it. One lifelong example that is currently flaring up again is my sleep issues. Or rather, my going to bed at a normal human being time issues.

I have always been a night owl. From a very young age, I would stuff a t-shirt under the door when I was supposed to be in bed so I could read for hours more. I taught myself to read when I was three or four, nad I haven’t stopped reading since. I would read into the wee hours of the night using a flashlight, and I never fell asleep until well past the point when I was put to bed.

When I was in college, I had a 7:45 a.m. class on Tuesdays and Thursdays one semester. I would go to bed around 3:30 a.m. and then get up at 7 a.m. for that class. I was so sleep deprived, I once wokke up and could not find my portable alarm clock. It was a cute and lavendar,, and I kept it on the side table by my bed.

One day, I slapped the table and the alarm clock wasn’t there. I looked all around my dorm room for it, but could not find it. I gave up after ten minutes or so,, then opened my mini-fridge to grab a Diet Pepsi. There was my alarm clock, and I had no menory of putting it there. My brain was so sleep-deprived,, it simply did not retain that information.

I slept roughly five hours a night until I started Taiji. Then, slowly, but surely, I eked my way up to six-and-a-half hours per night, waking up twice and having difficulty falling back asleep each time.

This was my life until I had my medical crisis. I slept almost all the time in the hospital, which was not surprising, obviously. I would guess I slept at least fourteen hours a day, heavily added with some seriously impressive sedatives.

When I got home, I went to bed by ten at night and got up at six. Eight solid hours of sleep a night, which was unheard of for me. Not to mention going to bed by ten. At night! It was great to get that much sleep; truth to be told, though, it was really weird. I wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth, though. I had never felt that rested in my life.


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I am done with sleep

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My sleep has been shit.

I say this as if it’s news, but it’s not really. My sleep has been shit all my life for varying reasons. I had gotten into a semi-regular sleeping habit recently of going to bed by 2 am and getting up around 8:30*. Then, I got sick again as is my wont and my sleep schedule got all fucked up again. The sleep time started getting pushed back further and further until I found myself going to bed at 5 a.m. Then, two days ago, I could not stay up past 11:30 p.m. I crashed, but kept waking up every few hours. I finally got up at 6:30 a.m. or so, and I felt shittier than if I had gone to bed at my regular time.

If I could have one wish come true, it would be that I could get a solid eight hours of sleep a night. That I could sleep without tossing and turning for a half hour first. That I wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night, my heart pounding uncomfortably fast. That I wouldn’t have nightmares, or more recently, anxiety dreams. That Shadow wouldn’t be in my face howling when I woke up in the morning/afternoon. That I would feel actually rested when I woke up. That my immediate response wouldn’t be, “God, I wish I could sleep forever.”

Some of that has to do with depression, of course. I don’t want to be alive, and that makes it harder to get up and go about my day. There was a program on MPR (or perhaps NPR) about suicide and how to talk to someone with suicidal ideation. The doctor said you had to first find out why the person was feeling suicidal. She mentioned there was a difference between someone who coped with the thoughts on a daily basis and someone who might have those feelings in response to a bad situation. She said in the former, it doesn’t help to tell them it’s going to be ok or to look at the bright side. She said it made them feel more isolated and as if nobody understood them. I wanted to shout an ‘amen’ from the rafters because fuck that bullshit.


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Tidying Up the Mess: General Housekeeping From the Staff (Me)

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may i have your attention, please.
Cleaning house!

There is one upside to being sick: It’s given me a lot of time to think, albeit morbidly, about this blog, my life in general, and the direction thereof of both. I’ve had a hard time writing every day, and it had me questioning whether it was even worth it. Don’t get me wrong, I want to keep on blogging; I’m just not sure it’s worth it. To be brutally honest, I feel as if I’m shouting into the void for many reasons, and I don’t like doing things that aren’t beneficial in one way or another.

If I do continue blogging, I’m most likely going to change the format. Initially, I decided to choose one topic for every day of the week to give myself some structure. And, to be honest, so readers would know what to expect every day. True to my nature, I soon said, “Fuck it. I’m going to write whatever I want whenever I want and just label it under each day. It’s my blog; I can do whatever I want.” I felt restricted by the constraints I placed on myself, though I do feel it helped me over all. One of my biggest flaws when it comes to writing is that I’m undisciplined, and forcing myself to write about a certain topic every day actually got me to write.

Now, though, I’m finding myself more frustrated than not when I try to stick to the schedule. In addition, I’ve pulled way back from writing about politics, which is my Thursday topic. Not because I don’t care, but because it’s overwhelming. I started using Twitter and Facebook in earnest during the 2008 campaign, which means I have a ton of political people in my TL/feed. I’m grateful to have so many intelligent, conscientious people in my social media, but it becomes crushing to read post after post about the fuckery of this presidential administration.

In addition, so much of the reporting on it is political theater, and it’s depressing to watch the media cavil at calling this president exactly what he is: a narcissistic, petulant, childish, tyrannical, deeply ignorant, idiotic, dangerous despot. We don’t need any more, “Can you believe this president is doing this?” articles because unless it’s something positive, yes, I can believe this president is doing something terrible, ignorant, self-destructive (country-self, mostly, but also self-self), and petty. That. Is. Who. He. Is.

What we need are posts about how to stop him and the cowardly Republicans who are supporting him. We also need articles constantly exposing the president and the Republicans for all their shenanigans, holding their feet to the fire, and demanding that they do their goddamn fucking jobs.

Breathe, Minna, breathe.

This is why I need to pull back from politics. I can’t deal with the constant (righteous) outrage over this president and this congress. I’m not talking about checking out because I think we all have a moral obligation to stay aware of what’s happening to our democracy, but I don’t think it’s helping anyone for us to make ourselves sick over it. Let me be clear. You and I can only individually do so much. Collectively, we can do a lot, but not if we run ourselves into the ground. One of my problems when I get overwhelmed is that I get depressed. When I get depressed, I get paralyzed. It’s a trite trope, but it’s true–if you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of anyone (or anything) else.

I’m not going anywhere, but I just need a shakeup. I’m not sure what, exactly, so I’m going to make it up as I go. Join me in the journey.

Struggling to Go with the Flow

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still waters run deep
Merrily merrily life is but a dream.

I hate change. No, that’s not hyperbole; I really do. I eat the same food almost every day in roughly the same order. I have a morning routine that I’m trying to vary, but not with much success. When I go to sleep, I have a ritual in the way I lie down that I do every night. There are cycles that I have to complete, even though I know they are ridiculous. When I was younger, if I ever did something on the right side of my body, I had to do it to my left side, too. I had a lot of tics, and I’m not yet rid of them all.

In the past few months, there have been several changes in my life, starting with the car accident. I’m mostly recovered from it, but I still have a slight negative reaction when cars come too close to me on the road. I’m pleased but surprised that physically, I’m nearly 100% again. One thing the car accident did to me, however, is make me think about what I really want in life. For one minute, I thought I was going to die. My life didn’t flash before my eyes, however, so that should have been my clue that I was going to survive.

Another change is this blog itself. I’ve been having a hard time writing for the past few years. I’ve done it in fits and starts, but I haven’t been able to sustain it. About a month and a half ago, I made the decision to dedicate myself to writing every day. Well, at least five days a week. I wanted to make money doing something I love, but more importantly, I wanted to actually do the thing I loved on a regular basis. To that end, I decided I needed a clean start, so I started a new blog. This blog. So far, I’ve met my goal of writing at least five times a week, so I’m pleased with that.

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